Bound (The Curse Trilogy Book 2)

by Nicole Marsh

  I make myself slowly walk down the stairs, taking each step one at a time, instead of bounding down like I want to. Rounding the corner into the kitchen, I grab a banana then finally allow myself to check to time.

  10:20.

  It’s about a fifteen-minute drive to grandma’s house, so it’s still a little early to head over. Unless… I drove a little slower, to be cautious about any wildlife out there or maybe any stray wolves roaming the woods. It would be pretty reasonable to leave now to make sure I’m not late. I continue to reason with myself as I walk outside and hop in my Prius.

  Slowly, cautiously, I back down the steep drive and turn onto the Main Road. More quickly than expected, I’m pulling onto the dirt road to my grandma’s house. Within minutes, I’m sitting outside her tiny cottage, nestled in the tree and slightly hidden by the foliage. Tapping my fingers on the steering wheel, I eye the clock in the car.

  10:32.

  Is this too early to head in? While I debate with myself whether a half hour early could be considered rude or courteous, a head covered in gray hair pops out past the leaves catches my attention from the corner of my eye. I turn my head and see my grandma waving me over.

  Hopping out of the car, I jog to her front steps. “Hey grandma, sorry I’m early.” I pause, trying to decide if I should make an excuse or not, my brain is consumed with thoughts of Vlad and I’m having a hard time thinking of anything else. “I thought it would take longer to get here.” I finish lamely, sticking with the half-truth I told myself as I left the house.

  “It’s okay, Dear. Your surprise is ready for you, come inside so I can show you.”

  Butterflies start to flutter in my belly as I follow behind her, watching her navy colored robe billow behind her as she walks. Unable to contain myself, I burst out, “Is it the tracking spell? Have you found…?” I trail off as I pass through the doorway and a tall, thin guy with overly gelled blonde hair stands from a seated position on the far couch.

  “Mira, this is Leif,” my grandma introduces us, her hand directed toward the guy and a beaming smile situated on her face.

  “A pleasure to meet you,” Leif states in a surprisingly deep voice with a light accent that I can’t quite identify. He proffers his hand for a handshake.

  Burying disappointment over my not Vlad-related surprise, I take his hand. A small shock of electricity travels between us, but Leif doesn’t seem to notice as he proceeds to firmly shake my hand. He continues to hold onto me, a few beats longer than the appropriate amount of time for a handshake. I delicately slip my smaller hand from his and then turn to face my grandmother, waiting for an explanation of her ‘surprise’.

  In her usual fashion, grandma never lets a moment to tell a lengthy story while sipping tea pass her by. “Why don’t you two sit down and get comfortable? I’ll make us some refreshments before we chat.” she offers.

  She putters away and I sit gingerly on the floral couch Vlad and I normally shared, across from Leif and the couch he had been sitting on earlier. He takes my movements as a cue to sit as well. I gaze down at my lap, plucking at an imaginary ball of lint before folding my hands together. A ticking from one of the eclectic items on my grandma’s shelves penetrates the silence.

  Leif clears his throat twice before he finally asks, “So you’re a Spells too then, eh?” Referring to my grandmother’s, and mother’s maiden, name.

  “Well, technically I’m a Love.” I say with a small smile. He nods slightly and I decide to engage, out of courtesy, if nothing else. “And you are?”

  Leif smiles and the expression takes over his entire face. His thin lips spread even thinner with the movement and reveal a set of straight, blunt teeth. His eyes crinkle at the corners making me think he’s a bit older than I originally expected, which was about my age. “I’m Leif Golden,” he says through his smile, the hint of an accent I’m unable to place, peeking through his words once more.

  I nod politely, as his name means nothing to me. His smile loosens a bit at my reaction, but remains plastered on his face until my grandmother returns with her tray. Leif hops from the couch and takes two long strides forward murmuring, “Allow me,” to my grandmother before taking the tray from her and ushering her forward towards her armchair off to the side.

  He delicately places the loaded tray on the coffee table and proceeds to pour three cups of tea, offering the first to my grandmother with a, “milady”. I watch in shock as a bright pink blush flares across my grandmother’s cheeks.

  Interesting.

  Leif offers me a cup next, and I lean forward, murmuring a quick, “thank you” before settling back into my couch. I focus my gaze on my grandmother expectantly, awaiting an explanation for why Leif Golden and I are here. My grandma sips her tea and lets out a soft sigh, then picks herself up from the pink chair to place a few cookies onto a napkin before sitting back down again. I stifle a groan of exasperation, already knowing my grandmother is not one to be rushed when she’s the center of attention.

  I twirl my own tea, taking a small sip and letting the cinnamon flavored liquid warm my insides. During my next, larger sip, my grandmother starts to speak and I almost spit the liquid out in surprise. My eyes water as I force it my throat to swallow and contain my coughs to keep from interrupting her, now that she’s begun.

  “Leif is here from the Canadian Coven. He is the son of my contact from there and has graciously agreed to help you study for your witches exams.” My grandmother looks at me with a pleased expression on her face.

  Leif is Canadian. That explains the tinge of an accent that I detected from his words earlier. After mulling the rest of my grandma’s statement over, I begin with, “Well, thank you.” Then pause to figure out how to word the question at the forefront of my mind. “Forgive my impoliteness, but why would you come all the way here to help me?”

  Leif’s large smile takes over his face again, “Well partially as a favor owed from my family to yours. But also, any issue affecting the supernatural world, such as the issue here with the wolf population, is a concern for everyone. Our coven is interested in finding more information on what is happening and why.”

  “So, are you here to train or investigate?” I question, trying to keep my tone light, when the whole thing seems a bit suspicious to me. When my grandmother went for help, they turned us away. The told my grandma they couldn’t offer any help until I was a witch, but then sent someone here anyways?

  “Well, both.” Leif replies, sounding almost apologetic. “You couldn’t travel to us for assistance without passing your witches exams, but my father felt we may be able to offer help here while you worked on passing them.”

  I mull over the scenario and decide maybe I’m being too defensive. It makes sense for Leif’s coven to send someone here, since I’m not yet able to go there, right? This coven seems to be trying to do everything they can to help and I’m attempting to create nefarious intentions that don’t exist. With my mind feeling more settled, I offer a slight smile. “Well, thank you for traveling all this way to help me. When can we get started?”

  “Ahh, not so fast, Mira Dear.” My grandmother states. “Leif traveled quite some distance and has just arrived. I think he needs a chance to settle in, maybe even get a feel for the town, instead of forcing him right into potion brewing.”

  Although her reprimand is a bit harsh, my grandma offers a smile when she’s done speaking, to soften the blow. I feel a bit deflated that we can’t start working immediately. I’m eager to pass my witches exams, cure the wolves, and hopefully get Vlad back. Maybe not in that exact order, but they’re all a priority to me.

  My grandma’s quiet tone startles me out of my thoughts, “I know you miss Vlad, dear. It’s only been a week since you two were here and he ran off with those wolves. I’m sure he’s safe and we’ll find a way to bring him back soon.”

  I nod my head, despite the fact that her words haven’t comforted me much. “Thanks, grandma.” Turning to face Leif, I force a brighter tone, “Af
ter my shift at the Daily, would you like me to show you around Downtown? We could go walk the shops with some ice cream,” I offer.

  “I would quite like that,” Vlad replies in his light accent. He’s wearing a polite smile, but has an odd twinkle in his eye. Like he and my grandmother are in on a joke that I haven’t been made aware of, yet.

  With our plans solidified, the three of us sit in silence, holding our teacups. The lack of noise is almost stifling and I’m ready to go home, but I’m not quite sure how to politely excuse myself after being here for less than half an hour. Neither Leif, nor my grandma, seem as uncomfortable by the silence as I am. Leif, in fact, has nestled back into his couch, half-lounging against the cushions as he sits sipping on his tea.

  I take the opportunity to look at his relaxed face. A broad nose, slightly upturned, wide almond shaped eyes, thin lips, with a slightly narrowed jaw topped with his gelled hair. Separately his features would not be deemed attractive, but together they give him an almost exotic look, making me wonder about his heritage. His hair is almost the same color as mine, about one shade darker, and his stature is quite large, making me think of a Viking. I smile at the thought and a smile forms across Leif’s face in response, making me realize that he’s been watching me examine him.

  A flush, much worse than my grandmother’s, comes over my face and I turn my gaze to the teacup resting in my lap. Focusing on the liquid, I bring the ceramic to my lips and take a small sip. The silence continues on, as I drink. Once my cup is emptied, it becomes quite unbearable.

  Clearing my throat, I ask Leif, “So… where are you staying? In town?”

  “Oh, no. I’ll stay here with Molly. Of course,” Leif replies the annunciation of his vowels highlighting that he’s not an American. He shoots a smile at my grandmother at the end of the statement, and she returns the look endearingly, as if he’s her long-lost grandson.

  I nod and the room falls back into silence again. I’m beginning to wonder if I’ve always been so awkward or if it’s just something about this situation. There isn’t anything wrong with Leif, at least not that I can tell, and I appreciate that he’s come all this way to help me, but his presence puts me on edge. I slowly rise from the couch and place my teacup back on the tray.

  “I think I should be heading back to my house,” I tell my grandmother. “I need to get a few things ready for work tomorrow. After work, I’ll come by and pick Leif up to see downtown.”

  “Okay Dear, thank you for coming by on short notice.” She replies, before taking another sip of her tea and letting out a small sigh. “We’ll see you tomorrow.”

  The two rise and follow me to the door, as if they’re co-hosts. I hug my grandma goodbye and give Leif a weird wave, before turning and running back to my car. I open the door and hop in before glancing back towards the cottage. On the steps leading up to the house, my grandma and Leif are still waving me off, so I quickly start my Prius and reverse towards the dirt road.

  The second my tires hit the Main Road; I call Sylvia. Thankfully, she answers on the second ring, “Was it Vlad? Are the lovebirds back together again?” Her voice singsongs the words through the speakers in my car.

  Sighing I reply, “No. It was some guy named Leif. He’s from the Canadian Coven, I guess...”

  A shriek interrupts before I can finish my sentence, “Leif Who?!? Leif Who?”

  “Uhm Leif Golden.” I say hesitantly, confused by her sudden change in behavior.

  A loud fangirl type scream fills my ears and I wince. Sylvia starts excitedly speaking, the words spilling out of the speakers so fast it takes me a second to decipher them. “Leif Golden? THE Leif Golden? What was he like? Is he handsome? Oh my god, wait. Don’t tell me yet, I’m coming over.”

  The click of the phone hanging up echoes through my car. Her excitement over this has me curious and I drive a tiny bit faster than usual to get home.

  I pull into the driveway and within seconds see a lime green flash down the sidewalk that indicates Sylvia is jogging over. Standing next to my car, I wait for her to hustle up my driveway. In seconds, she’s spewing out words between panted breaths. I catch “witching-web”, “potions master”, and “video blog” before waving my hands in the air to stop her.

  “I can’t understand what you’re saying, psychopath. Let’s go inside and get some snacks and you can tell me about him in the studio.”

  We settle into the two oversized leather chairs in the corner with a slew of snacks on the small table between us. “Okay, spill. Who is this Leif guy?” I finally ask Sylvia, grabbing a handful of carrots to eat while I listen.

  Her eyes widen. “I can’t believe you’ve never heard of him,” she exclaims.

  Pointing a finger back at myself, I respond, “New to witching, remember?”

  Sylvia nods with two Cheetos sticking out of her mouth while she pulls her phone out of her back pocket. “Ohmkay, mwell mI’ll shmow moo,” she mumbles out while crunching on the chips. Placing her phone between us, she types in wwww.foogle.com.

  I’m about to remark that she’s typed in too many w’s, but swallow the words as a screen pops up that I’ve never seen before. Instead of the traditional white screen with a search bar, the screen is all back with a blue bar to type in your questions.

  “What is this?” I whisper, as if speaking too loudly will make the website disappear.

  “World-wide witching web,” Sylvia replies. She doesn’t add a “duh” on the end, but her tone implies it should be there. “How do you think we can find information or order supplies? It’s not like you can go onto regular Foogle and type in ‘Where can I find blancara leaves?’”

  I make a mental note to wipe out my laptop’s internet browser history before Sylvia gets ahold of it. I would never hear the end of it if she saw I had, in fact, typed that question into Foogle, a few days ago after I realized our blancara leaf supply was getting a bit low from all my butchered potion brewing. “I thought our history and recipes for potions were all in books and potions manuals.” I state, wondering about the functions of this “witching web”.

  “Well, duh. But books are so old school,” Sylvia replies. “Almost everything you can find in books is on wwww, well except for like really bad stuff. Obviously, no one wants that to be public knowledge.”

  My mind wanders back to the days Vlad and I spent at my grandma’s house, searching through dusty old texts. We definitely became closer during those days working together, but it would have been a heck of a lot easier if we had known about the witching web then. Bringing my thoughts back to the present, I focus on Sylvia’s phone to see she’s brought up a popular video website called MeTube, where people posts all types of videos that can be viewed by anyone.

  She types in ‘Leif Golden’ and a profile pops up with a familiar blonde-haired guy. I let out a gasp, not over the fact that he’s on the witching web’s MeTube, but rather over the fact that has five-hundred and fifty thousand followers for his videos.

  “Who is this guy?” I ask, more to myself than to Sylvia.

  She smirks at me. “I can’t believe you’ve never heard of him. He creates his own potions all the time and films the process, then he posts them here for anyone to watch or recreate. Some of them are really dangerous, but somehow, he always makes them work. He’s basically famous. His Dad is some super important potions master too. People travel from all over the world to get his help with crazy problems.”

  “Wow.” The response barely scratches the surface of the thoughts swirling around my brain. Maybe Leif can find Vlad, and cure the wolves and the curse, if he’s as good as Sylvia says he is. A renewed sense of hope wells up inside me.

  Sylvia presses play on a video, interrupting my thoughts of the problems of Florence and the shifters. Together we watch as Leif pinches and pours ingredients into a giant pewter cauldron, occasionally stirring. It’s kind of freaky comparing the cocky guy in the video, dressed in nice slacks and a button-up, to the much quieter guy at my grandmother’s in jeans a
nd a t-shirt. He definitely adapts to his environment; I think to myself.

  When he’s finished brewing, he uses a ladle to pour a scoop of bionic blue potion from the cauldron into a vial. He shows off the jarred liquid, then places it on the table in view of the camera. I admire the potion he was able to whip up with ease. Immediately after the glass jar hits the table, Leif uses the ladle to throw another scoop of the blue liquid onto the ground, right in front of him.

  In a puff of smoke, he disappears.

  When the video is finished a question pops into the forefront of my mind. “Do you think other witches will recognize him if we go to Downtown Florence together?”

  Sylvia hmms looking contemplative. After a minute, she shrugs, “It’s possible. I mean he’s basically a witch celebrity. Honestly though, they might not connect his face with his name unless you go around yelling, ‘Leif Golden’. He’s not really known for his distinguished looks, just his potion brewing skills.”

  The relief her words create is palpable. “I hope you’re right,” I respond. The last thing I want is a bunch of kids from school that hate me, swarming Leif and I asking for his autograph as we walk downtown.

  “If nothing else, he’ll at least be able to help you pass your witches exams. Even if you have to fight off hordes of crazed fans,” Sylvia says with a wink, anticipating where my mind was headed, without me having to say the thought aloud.

  “Let’s hope the first part of your statement is true and the second doesn’t happen,” I reply back with a laugh.

  3

  The Dinner

  Mirabella

  Today marks eight days since Vlad ran off with the wolves in the forest near my grandma’s house. It’s the second Sunday dinner in my entire life that I can remember having with both of our parents, without his presence.